


And The Snakes Start To Sing

by LaughingMoon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Background Character Death, Gen, Murder Mystery, Not Happy, Realistic, Revenge, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingMoon/pseuds/LaughingMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Gentleman. At least that what he considered himself to be. After all he was gentle and a man, sadly that didn´t make it easy to belong in the world he was born into, so instead he ran away shattering the last of his familial relationships in the process. Now he comes home after a long abscence. All he wants out of his return is to mend his strained relationship with his brother. He is not prepared for the reality that awaits him. A series of unfortunate events followed him no matter where he turned. His homecoming should have been a joyous affair, instead what he gets is fear, heartache and loss. Danger is certainly looming close</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Lovelies!!

Back Home

 

The car came to a sudden stop; I wasn’t waiting for us to arrive to our destination so soon. I felt my old insecurities blending together while I waited for the chauffer to open the door for me, as was proper protocol, it was nerve wracking. Perhaps a few years ago I would have taken all of this for granted.  The chauffer opened the door and stepped aside so I could exit, I absentmindedly thanked him and I could feel myself returning to a world I had long forgotten, but apparently had no trouble returning to, I didn’t even know the chauffer’s name.

 The first step is always the hardest, but it has to be taken anyway. This was the path that was going to take me to my brother, and while I may have learned to despise the shallowness of the privileged, him I miss. I cringed just by looking at the perfectly groomed clothes of the people around me, compared to my well-worn suit. The image they posed was so daunting, it made me want to return to Vienna and hide in the humble life I had managed to build for myself. But alas, it was not to be.

 So instead of turning back, I made my way past the grand staircase of the Ritz, pondering how I ended up here when I begged my brother for weeks on end, not to throw such an extravagant event on my behalf. The salon was even grander and at the centre of it all was my brother. He hadn´t changed a thing from the last time I saw him all those years ago waiting for me to board a plane that would take me far. Sure, he looked more mature and probably went through a girlfriend or two or twenty. At the same time, he looked preoccupied, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders alone, and the way he gazed around the room could only be considered paranoid with that crazy gleam in his eye. It was probably because of the curse of being dad’s offspring.

 But all of that seemed to drain away the moment he locked gazes with me from across the salon. For a moment it was like he became the little boy I used to hide with in our father´s study, the one that made up mysteries to keep us entertained during those long nights alone spent in hotel rooms in some unknown corner of the world.

 It is an old cliché, the story of the poor single mom going against adversity to raise her children, while the dead-beat dad bangs a younger trollop and drinks away the little family’s shoestring budget. Our case was slightly different. There was never a mother in the picture, sometimes I wonder if she ever existed. Our father tried, I’m certain he did, we just never measured up to his precious company. I don’t think me or my brother, knew how much we meant to him until he was bedridden, and he entrusted the future of his life’s work to my now doomed brother.

 Still distraught by the walk down memory lane, I began walking towards my brother, when I noticed he was in the company of a beautiful young woman. By her flaming red hair, I instantly knew she was Scarlett, my brother’s girlfriend in passing, though I suspect she would take longer to go away. She was using a diamond-encrusted necklace, Will’s common way of apologizing for being such a jerk.

 All I knew of Scarlett, aside from her femme fatale appearance was that she was the Chair in Office at the prestigious law firm my uncle Cornelius built. As far as I knew that is how they met, one day Will went to the office trying to mend his broken relationship with our uncle who once again refused to meet him. So instead of a healed familiar relationship, Will left the office with a new girl on his arm. I don’t think Cornelius ever found out, he hated my brother enough by the time I left London.

 Before I could even open my mouth to greet him, my brother was already engulfing me in his arms. It was comforting to know that despite the coldness that constantly surrounds him he could find a little bit of warmth within him. It was even more comforting to realize that warmth was aimed at me.

 Conversations that were long overdue in the sterile room of the airport were just scratched when the vapid guests of my welcoming party crammed me and managed to separate me from my brother, the only person I returned to this wretched place for. Even with the not so gentle thought running through my mind I have poise, so outing on a smile I let the vultures ensnare me with their questions and fake curiosity. The party ran its course.

 It took me a while but I was finally able to make my way out of the throng and into one of the adjacent hallways. I heard loud familiar voices that were trying to be quiet, so I obviously followed the sounds to a small room. Whoever was in there, left the door ajar so I could peek inside and watch the scene unfold. The flickering light of the chimney was he only source of illumination, and it was just enough so I could make out the silhouettes of my brother, arguing with dear uncle Cornelius.

 Curiosity piqued, I drew closer to the door but made so much noise that both figures stilled and stopped their heated argument to run to my hiding place. Not wanting to be caught, I hightailed it out of there and into the crowd of the main salon. I tiptoed along the sides of the room hoping to avoid detection. I breathed a sigh of relief when I exited to the furthest balcony only to see another sight I did not expect.

 Scarlett was there, along with a man about Will’s age, who looked vaguely familiar. He chuckled at something Scarlett said while she leaned to him flirtatiously. Nothing happened though because Will decided to interrupt the moment when he entered the balcony and flew into a jealous rage. My brother whispered something in the redhead’s ear that caused her to slap him with enough force to tumble him down.

 Before anyone could storm off, I decided to leave. Taking one last look at the people, I saw their three faces starring back at me. But what drew my attention was not the devastated expression of my brother, but the factions of the stranger beside him. It was then very clear why I knew him. If I recall correctly his name was Andrew Marshall, some kid who used to go to our same school but who disappeared before we even finished elementary school.

 I tried to make a swift exit but my brother caught up with me at the stairs before I could make it to my car.

 - “Elroy I have to tell you something very important. Please, I know this night was a disaster and not what you wanted when you just came back, but could you meet me tomorrow at my place. Just before nightfall.”

 And in true Tucker fashion, he turned and left without waiting for my response, assuming I would do his bidding.

The car ride to the apartment was silent, I kept dozing off soothed by the to and fro of the car. Arriving to the posh building I couldn’t help but miss the simple abode I left back in Vienna. The contrast was staggering. Entering the loft only enhanced my depression by looking around all the unpacked boxes that littered the place. Fortunately, the mattress had arrived to the master bedroom and I had a somewhat comfortable place to sleep. Laying down on the bare bed my last thought before succumbing to exhaustion was not without sarcasm. Home Sweet Home.

 

* * *

 

 The sun was setting; I could see it disappear behind the tall buildings of the city from the rolled down window of my car. Soon the whole city would be immersed in shadow and I was still just sitting in my car waiting for the courage that had deserted me to come back again. Sighing I decided that courage I was waiting for was refusing to make an appearance. Finally, with one last sigh I opened the door and exited my car.

 My first impression of my brother`s house was that it had not changed in the years that had passed since I last visited. Perhaps it had a darker aura but that was to be expected since my brother was no longer the happy young man he was when he first moved in. It makes sense that some of the dark secrets he had taken to keep lately also reflected on his house.

 But I was stalling. I probably looked like a fool standing in front of his door with my arm ready to knock but not quite daring to. After yesterday’s events I didn’t know if I was upset with my brother, but he did say he had something important to tell and I couldn’t bear to let him down.

 I knocked on the door. Once, twice by the sixth time I was confused. Why would he have me come all the way to his home just for him to be absent? I remembered there was a spare key hidden under the porch light, so I let myself in.

 The inside of the house wasn’t any less gloomy than the outside, if anything it was more sombre despite the large windows letting in the last slivers of light. Everything was silent as I made my way through the house waiting for the inevitable creaking of the wood that seems to be ever-present in this type of atmospheres. Thankfully the creaking never came and the silence remained unbroken.

 I barely dared to breathe in the oppressing stillness of my brother’s home. I chose to ignore the feeling telling me my brother was not here, and instead I decided to make myself at home and check the house I used to intimately know before he came home.

 The bottom floor was empty, not just of people but devoid of any signs of life, it was as cold as the winters we spent in Scotland with father. The coldest winters I remember ever having. The next floor was a little more vivacious. Perhaps it was not colourful or garish, but the presence of my brother was obvious with its worn-out books, medicines in the cabinet, the unkempt bed I could glimpse from the hall and the pictures adorning all the walls. Because of the mess, I could tell the maid hadn’t come by today. My brother was always one for those luxuries.

 At the end of the hall, was an elegant wooden door that guarded the entrance to what was once my father’s studio, the same studio that now belonged to my brother. I was a bit apprehensive to cross this threshold. This was a place that protected all my father’s most well kept secrets and his deepest intimacies. I assume it was also full of my brother’s undisclosed thoughts. Thoughts I wasn’t sure he wanted me to know.

 I shook off my hesitance, and opened the door. What met my eyes was not a sight I could ever forget. It will haunt my every waking moment as well as well as turn my dreams to never ending nightmares.

 The studio was as I always remembered. The same dry earth tones, the same ochre furniture, and the leather smell of the sofa. Even the pictures where the same. The only addition to the picture that could have been painted ten years ago, was sitting in my father’s swivel chair.

 The lifeless body of my brother was leaning on the desk, pale against the dark colour of the blood pooling under William’s head. The image was grotesque in its composition, straight out of a gothic horror. The blood, the gun, the pasty tone of my sibling’s skin. There was even a hole that pierced through his head where I could peek a little of his well-cultured brain.

 The panic came a second later.  Throat constricting to the point I cold hardly breath, tears were leaking out of my eyes in a way they haven’t done in the past ten years.  My first instinct was to run as far as I could from this image, to pretend this could never be my reality, that my brother was not laying dead in his study. But my rational side took over and I went to the body to check for a pulse.

 Not finding any sign of movement inside my brother’s veins brought the reality I was trying to deny crashing down on me. He was really dead. The man that used to laugh, and pretended he never cried, the one that did his best to make our father proud and tried to shield me from not having a mother. That wonderful admirable man was gone.

 


	2. Memories Of A Madman

Memories of a Madman

 

I was sure that if I looked hard enough into my glass I could see my reflection staring back at me. I was on my fourth glass already and I could begin to feel the gentle buzz that only cheap bourbon could bring. There wasn´t any need for me to get wasted tonight, not when the night’s events were still delightfully fresh in my mind. But it had become a habit over the last years to come for a couple drinks every once in a while. It was a habit I really didn’t want to forgo even in a night such as this.

 I looked at the crystal amber liquid one last time before I chugged the rest of it down in one go. The burn of the throat brought solace as it made its way down my system. The cheapness of the drink was easily distinguishable in the taste and the sensation it left behind. I am certain my father would have never let such disgraceful liquor pass his lips. It makes me feel like a traitor to get such enjoyment from what should only be the delight of the common folk. But in my current standing there are no other joys I can afford. Though perhaps I found one tonight.

 William Tucker. The name still sends a wave of hatred racing through my blood. It possesses me completely. I remember the first time I met him. Back then; he was just a tiny wisp of a boy. Playful and innocent, he was blissfully unaware of the seed of loathing that was growing and festering inside of me. Now, don’t take me for a madman, I don’t go around hating people. If there was anyone he could blame for how things turned out, it was only himself. Perhaps, also, his old man.

 As time went by, William shed his childhood naivety to become the same soul-sucking viper his sire turned to be. There’s a thing about Tuckers, they charm everyone around them into freely giving their lives away to enter their miserable world, but in the end they have no care for anyone but themselves, and their gain. They betray without a thought. If there is a definition of cruelty and noxiousness, it would be a Tucker.

 Especially William. Oh! How I despised him. The spoiled little brat that grew into a greedy spoiled man. It makes me sick to the stomach just thinking how easy and without hardship his life was. With everything handed to him in a silver platter he never had to work for anything, never had to experience hunger or disappointment. He never felt the sharp sting of rejection. He was born into a castle of roses where everything was a given.

 Being the firstborn is always a boon. At least, it should be. But begging for your father’s attention can never compare to finding his body laying on a table, with his face wrecked by the path of a bullet from the chin all the way to the crown of his head. The gun still loosely held in his cold dead hand.

 In the end it can’t be said he didn’t know fear. I made sure of it. This is a memory I will always treasure. I was astonished at the lack of surveillance someone of William’s calibre had to protect his home. It was laughably easy to slip into his territory.  Rich men, with their deliriums of grandeur, they feel completely custodied just by having a guardhouse façade. It wasn’t enough to stop me.

 I quietly made my way through the house marvelling at how little there was. Someone else would have taken the austerity of the place as a sign of the humility of William’s character. I knew better. He simply didn’t appreciate the gift owning a house, and one as beautiful as this, actually was. To me the emptiness was another mockery to my situation. One more reason to seal his death.

 He was asleep when I found him in the master bedroom. His blond hair was scattered on the pillow as he slept on oblivious to my presence. I hope there was room in my heart to pity him, at least once in his last moments. Unfortunately, the hatred is so deep and has such a strong hold on my heart there’s no room for compassion, not for him.

 That’s when I saw them. His eyes. They were wide open; I would never have believed human eyes could be so wide. Apparently they could. What delighted me the most was the fear that was obvious in his eyes. It wasn’t just fear; it was absolute terror that swam in those blue pools of his. He knew he was going to die.  The _fear_ was so thick in the room I swear I could taste its salty flavour on the tip of my tongue. It excited me in ways nothing had done since I myself was a small child.

 Despite myself I smiled. I can only imagine the image I must have painted. It gives me shivers of pleasure just realizing that I could intimidate this man so much. How intoxicating this new found power was. Addicting to a point. Though I had waited for this moment what felt like an entire lifetime of planning, and spying I expected a level of hesitance. There was none.

 He tried to fight at first. What a fool! Thinking he, a man whose sole strength lies in the lucky star of his cradle, could take me, a man who battled life without weapon. He folded at the sight of the gun. They all think they’ll be brave when facing danger; they are all cowards at heart. I had to resist the urge to laugh at his quivering form as it would have ruined the menacing aura I created.

 I enjoyed torturing him the most. Still, I was very careful not to leave a mark. That could destroy the plan I had so carefully constructed. If everything went smoothly, to the world William Tucker will have committed suicide, and no one would be the wiser to the truth, leaving me with the opportunity to continue with my precious scheme.

 The final product was a work of art. Very few would have the appreciation, the understanding of the deep symbolism behind every one of my actions. They were not just for the pleasure of it, I am not a hedonist. The positioning of the body, the place where it will be found, that particular gun, the burning papers in the fireplace, they all serve a higher purpose.  This crime, the perfection of it, it will be the culmination of my life.

 Feeling extremely satisfied with my masterpiece I left the now empty house never to return again. It is a pity I cannot be there to savour the havoc my art will cause in that poor darling brother of his. That first moment of his panic would have been better than the most exquisite of wines.

 The tinkle of the bell signalling midnight brought me back to the present. I couldn´t help one more smile before tossing the money on the counter and leaving this forsaken bar. Once out on the crisp London night I began the short trek home. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a couple prostitutes trying to get my attention. They were not in the least bit attractive, the signs of addiction were evident in their faces under the heavy makeup and the ripped up clothes. Their gaunt expressions resembling more of a banshee than those of a lady. But the promise of sex hung in the air. I made my way over to them. Tonight was a night of celebration.


	3. The First Clue

The First Clue

 

The police had arrived a while ago. I wasn´t sure exactly how long they had been here but I hadn´t moved from my spot in the floor ever since I made the call. All I was certain of was that my brother’s body had yet to be moved, I could still see him sprawled on his desk if I lifted my head up enough, so I tried to avoid doing that choosing to gaze at the pattern on the wooden floor instead.

 There were lots of thoughts battling for dominance in my head, none of them very clear so my mind was very fuzzy. I barely noticed the officers swarming around me trying to analyze the scene; it wasn’t until I heard the dreaded word that I snapped out of my trance. Suicide. I guess I knew the minute I saw his body what everyone else would think.

 I was sure though, my brother did not commit suicide. It didn’t make sense. The cracking of the fireplace stole my attention, and I realized there were papers slowly burning inside it. In the spy movies I used to secretly adore during my teenage years, when a crime takes place there’s always a piece of evidence left to be found by the protagonist, and those papers damn sure looked the part. I guess I’m the protagonist of this story, the one that will have to uncover the truth of the crime and go rogue. Will would have been much better suited for this role.

 Getting up on unsteady feet I made my way to the chimney and fished out the charred papers scalding my hand in the process. I was relieved to see the papers were still slightly legible. Not all the words could be read, but from what I could glimpse they were legal documents of some kind and they had to do with William’s company. From the yellowed paper and the texture, it was apparent they were old so I guess they had to do with my father’s company instead.

 I wondered. Perhaps this was the important matter he summoned me to discuss. I tried reading more carefully this time around, some of the words were discernible but what I was reading made no sense to me.  I never regretted studying maths instead of business more than I did now, maybe then I would actually understand the only clue I had as to what happened to my brother. There was something telling me these papers in my hand were very important. 

 As the lead detective approached, I hid the papers in my coat’s pocket, hoping he hadn’t realized what I just did. He started asking me about the last time I saw my brother. He wanted to know everything about that disaster of a party. I was conflicted, I didn’t know whether to tell him about the confrontations Will had with both, Scarlett, and Cornelius, or if I should rather keep it to myself. Logically, I should tell the officer, and let him do the investigation, but I just knew, they weren’t going to look into the matter deep enough.

 For them, it was just another routine suicide. For me, it wasn’t just the death of the most important person left in my life, but it was also a crime that needed to be investigated and not just thrown under the rug.

 I knew William, probably better than anyone dead or alive ever did. He was the type of man to meet problems dead on, he was headstrong. Hell, he was just strong. It was very out of character for him to decide to shoot himself over some petty hassle. Not even the loss of our father managed to tear him down, and we loved that man to pieces.

 Besides, this couldn’t be a suicide, he had something important to tell, and William just didn’t joke around important issues. I pondered if that was the reason he was dead. Not because it was some unconquerable obstacle, but because someone out there didn’t want him to tell me. The problem was I had no idea who that could be, or what he wanted to tell me for that matter.

 There had to be somewhere I could start searching for answers. I took the papers out of my hand once more and glanced at them waiting for divine inspiration. Imagine my surprise when it actually came in the form of a name, one that was written clear as day in black ink contrasting with the yellow of the page. Cornelius.

 My first instinct was to deny where my thoughts where heading to. Cornelius may have detested my brother these past few years but he was still family. He could have never killed the nephew he used to babysit, the one he taught how to drive and passed his profound knowledge of picking up a different girl every night to. It was uncanny, how alike they could be.

 That was a long time ago. Things were much different now; there were no affective exchanges, no words of encouragement or pride, no outings to high-end bars, or swapping of conquest stories. It wasn’t just that their relationship went cold, as relationships tend to do; it was more like it met its devastating end brought upon by a mix of misunderstandings and pride. Once again, men of power have proved to care more about business than their own flesh and blood.

 As I understand it, kin used to mean something. It was astounding how a simple piece of paper, my father’s will, created a breach that couldn’t be abridged even after all these years. Of course, it wasn’t just a piece of paper, but the betrayal it meant to my uncle. He could never forgive the fact that he was not to become the new leader of the company. I guess is human nature to be controlled by greed. Or maybe is just the nature of the people I grew around.

 The detective once again commanded my attention, this time though it wasn’t for anything as innocent as asking a couple of questions. No, what he wanted me was to give away any possibility of this crime being solved and of me finding the truth. In his hand was a piece of paper stating my brother’s case was in fact a suicide. At the bottom of the document was a blank line demanding my signature.

 I wasn’t ready to sign; it was an unsurpassable conundrum. Shakespearean in nature. The conflict pulled me in two directions that would lead me down opposing paths. I could either tell the detective my suspicions, or sign and figure by myself if my conjecture was true. I signed.

 


	4. Funest Day In Black

Funest Day in Black

 

Just as I predicted the invitation to the funeral never came. It didn’t matter to me. Right now I was standing in my only suit, below an opened umbrella to avoid the insistent rain that seemed to have made its goal to drench the cemetery and all the grieving visitors.  

 In the distance I could see the first guests arrive at the site, I could see their umbrellas more than anything. They were all black, matching the expressions worn by its carriers. I could see behind those shattered expressions; each guest was wearing a mask of deep grief. But, in the end, that was all they were, masks. No one was here mourning William Tucker. They were mourning the image of power and money he possessed in life. Elroy Tucker had just arrived and I looked at his face. Perhaps there was someone who will be mourning William after all, I thought with sadistic delight.

 The mound I was standing on was not far away from the future grave of William Tucker. The place where he would pass the rest of his days trapped within the small confines of a coffin, constricted and out of air, a dozen of feet below the ground, closer to hell than he would be to us, accompanied only by the worms crawling through his corpse.

 The ever-present London’s fog prevented the guests from noticing the shadow my figure casted. I was lurking, waiting for the opportunity to melt into the black mass. From a moment to the next, the nearly empty graveyard became full with the heat of the living. I didn’t like this very much, the crowds of people. I was never a very social person, and if I was it was from a time I can no longer remember. I could only imagine how the dead under my feet would take this disturbance, their invasion to their cold.

 The last to arrive was the priest. Something I couldn’t understand was the reason why they called a priest, it was obvious to whoever paid close attention that William was beyond any salvation, except for the one that I graciously gave him.

 It is bad form to arrive late, so I drew nearer to the casket, but still keeping to the sidelines of the people surrounding it in a worshipping manner that revolted me. All I was looking forward to, the main reason I came to this lame charade of a goodbye was to make one final taunt. To stand alive while he was being lowered to the ground was the perfect mockery. And if I could enjoy the suffering in little Elroy’s face all the better.

 The priest began its arrogant discourse praising the existence, life and death of William. All of it was made of lies. None of the teary faces knew of William’s putrid nature, of his crimes. Or maybe they knew but chose to ignore it in favour of maintaining the forced cordiality that is vital to survive in the world of the privileged and idle.  

 The ceremony continued with on feeling the cemetery with its lies, the same empty prayers and the same mindless repetitions. Normally I would hate this type of things, I think God abandoned humanity long ago, he didn’t have much hope for us. Now, but I came anyway. It was the morbid fascination if seeing all the pain I caused. It was a spectacle I couldn’t refuse. This was the party I wanted to go in the first place.  

 The ceremony was drawing to its end. I saw Elroy’s figure approached Scarlett’s hunched up one. She looked even smaller from this angle. Oh, Scarlett, my dear naive Scarlett. The tears glistened even in the dim light of the day. I was having trouble discerning if those tears were real, or for the benefit of the turned up brother. She has been sleeping with me for a while now. Poor girl, I do feel a little bit of pity for her; just like any other little girl, she grew up thinking of princesses and castles, hoping someday magic will give her, her own prince, and fairy tale ending. She just doesn’t know I am more a demon than a prince. It was her position in William’s life that interested of her, but some women are just begging to be used.

 Elroy gave one final hug to Scarlett, leaving her standing alone looking longingly at his retreating back. I don’t know, it was hard to tell who looked more miserable. Scarlett, the moment she was sure no one was looking at her anymore, and Elroy was a few good feet away, her face became and impassive mask, all the pain and signs of tears, banished from her features. I guess it was another win over William, I took away the heart of the one woman, he probably would have come to care for.

 The funeral was over. From the gates of the cemetery, Elroy looked back at the place where his brother will forever rest with a broken look in his eye. He turned, and walked away. It was as if his presence lifted the vail of false grief that had been present during the show. Laughing conversations, between the guests started off, plans for drinking, partying and fucking had become the norm again.

 It was disgusting the hollowness of the things their lives revolved around. I do not know if I should envy them or condemn them. It impressing the little meaning life has before their eyes, and that is coming from me, the man who not a day ago ended the existence of one of this monsters.  

 With a swirl of my black greyed coat, I too followed after Elroy.


	5. The Loss Of A Brother

The Loss of a Brother

 

I woke up the morning after the funeral, feeling the worst hangover I could ever remember experiencing. The funny thing was I hadn’t had a single drink. I guess this is what grief does to you.

 Getting up from the bed was a struggle, if it were up to me, I would rather lay in this bare mattress until life regained some semblance of sense. There was no way I could stay hidden between the oppressing walls of the room. I had to face the cruel world outside, if only for the sole purpose of finding my brother’s murderer.

 I’m still not exactly sure what I would do when I find him, I guess I just need a reason for his death.

 The decaying smell of death lingered on my skin, I had to wash it off since I couldn’t stand before my uncle with that kind of pestilence. I don’t remember seeing Cornelius at the funeral, it just makes me more suspicious of him. Perhaps the guilt is consuming him to the point where he couldn't bare looking at the catastrophe he just created.

 The warmth of the shower alleviated some of my despairing thoughts. Though I could feel the water cascade down my body, the droplets hitting my skin with force, inside I was numb.

 The numbness taken a hold of me was worrying me slightly, I thought I should be feeling anger or overwhelming sadness. Instead, I just feel despair and hopelessness, I would have rather the anger.

 My fragile state of mind was enhanced by the loneliness radiating from every inch of my London apartment. It just reminded me that the only reason I came back to the place I despised was now cold, under the ground. The shackles that bounded me to this city were not broken, I still have something for me to finish before I could leave once again. This time for good.

The office building that held my uncle’s firm was as impressive and imposing as the man himself was. The flashback was inevitable. The boys running around the building as if it was their very own playground were as real as if they were fiscally present instead of just housed in my mind.

 Entering the building felt somewhat foreboding. The lift ride made me claustrophobic just when the walls were closing on me, the doors ringed and opened. My uncle’s office was at the top of the building, at the very last floor.

 The walls were made of expensive wood, they were all privileged with the company of the Picasso’s and Dali’s my uncle has collected over the years. The marble ground resounded with my footsteps as I made my way to the robust oak doors that guarded the entrance to his second home. It was fitting that such secretive man had such impenetrable doors. Back when we were little, they weren’t nearly as uninviting as they looked now. I don’t know the reason why, if it is because they have adapted them to my uncle’s changed personality, but before. they were always wide open.

 I knocked. The sound of the door was grave, I waited with bated breath. The doors opened in an ominous manner.

 Framed by the threshold stood Cornelius Tucker doing the plebeian task of holding the door for me. I stepped inside relishing in the surprise widening of his eyes, and nearly inaudible gasp he let out.

 He regained his composure not a second later, placing a passible smile on his face, and giving his voice a soothing tone. He exclaimed:

\- “Elroy, my dear boy” - He placed a heavy hand meant to be comforting on my shoulder – “I’m sorry I couldn´t make it to the funeral, it was hard for me to attend, I feel so guilty. The last words I told your brother were so very long ago, and they were not the kindest of them. I wish now I could take every single one of them and have one more day with my esteemed nephew.”

\- “You had years and years to make it right, and you just never did. You didn´t even cared enough to make an appearance and say one last goodbye. Do you at least regret it? At all?

 - “Of course I do Elroy”- He said in a voice that belied the rising anger- “Just because he and your father betrayed me doesn´t mean I didn´t love him.”

 I walked towards the window and looked though it at the city below with all its passer-byes. I knew the confrontation would be draining I just didn´t imagine it would drag to the surface years of resentment on behalf of my brother. I heard him move and come to stand behind me, I could feel the heat escaping his body through his expensive Armani suit. When he spoked next, his words had lost its harsh tone.

 - “Believe me, Elroy. I couldn’t, really couldn’t go. I would’ve loved nothing more than to beg forgiveness from your brother, even if he really couldn’t give it”.

 Because his voice was so soft, the undertones of sadness were clear. The thing is I couldn’t see if it was real of not. Everyone who grows up in this world, masters the art of deception.

 I turned to look at him once again, ready to tell him I knew he was lying about not talking to Will for years, I saw their fight at the party after all. But when I turned, I saw the frantic way his eyes were hidden something. Over my years in Vienna, I learned how to read the humans around me, so I could tell, quite easily at that, that he was scared.

 Now it was my turn to place a comforting hand on him.

 - “Uncle Cornelius, I know you are hiding something, do you want to tell me what ails you?”

 My uncle opened his mouth a few times with no real sound coming out of his lips. He stuttered a name so quietly I thought I may have misheard it, but then as if she had been called by uncle’s sad attempt at communication, she opened the door, and strutted through the door and into the office, as if she owned it. Her face was perfectly composed. I thought she was coming to deal with some business thing with my uncle, since she was clutching a couple papers in her hand, I could even see and envelope addressed to him in flawless calligraphy. Instead, she turned to me.

 - “Elroy, I think is time for you to leave” – She said.

 I was about to protest when my uncle bid me farewell. It was disconcerting to say the least, but I left anyway. With one last glance back, I saw Scarlett lean in to whisper something in my uncle’s ear before handing him the envelope. Suspicion arose on my chest. All the way down the building and out on the street I kept going back to that mental image.

 The thought of going home didn’t appeal to me in that moment, filed boxes on the floor, and empty walls were not the best companions, so I walk down the opposite direction. The evening London’s fog swallowed me up whole.


	6. Night-time Revelations

Night-time Revelations

 

I was sitting in the middle of the floor. Everything was just as William left it, it was as if he wasn’t gone at all. The peace my brother’s home provided, was broken when I heard rustling noise outside the door. Looking through the window, all I could see were shadows and varying degrees of black.

 I opened the door and turned on the porch’s lantern. the light it gave off was too faint, but enough to distinguish a figure invading the front of the house. Trying to escape, Scarlett tripped over her own feet in her haste to avoid being recognized. With her bright red hair, it was an impossible task.

 She looked up at me from her position in the ground, taking quick peeks towards the house, forcing me to look back and take notice of the patch of white against the general blackness of the landscape. I didn’t know whether to reach for it or stay and talk to Scarlett.

 I don’t think Scarlett could go far in the three seconds it would take for me to check what it was. When I was close enough, I realize that patch of white was actually the envelope from which my suspicions were born, the same that was given to my uncle. I stared at it, and turn it in my hands feeling the roughness of it.

 I was about to ask Scarlett why she had it, and was given it to me when I noticed she was on her way out of the property. I shouted at her while being mindful of the fact that it was nearing midnight.

 - “Scarlett don’t”.

 She faced me for the first time that night. That´s when I noticed the change she had undergone. The make-up that constantly adorned her face was gone, letting the deep circles under her eyes show. The happiness that was evident in her features in the company of the man at the party, or even the composure she showed earlier in the office were gone leaving in its place an extreme vulnerability on her features.

 My heart twinged a little for the normally confident woman.

 - “Scarlett, what is this? Why do you have it? Why do you give it to me?” – I fired the questions at her without giving her the time to answer, so I quieted down.

 Even her voice was shaky when she finally spoke in a whisper that was hard to hear.

 - “Just read the envelope, is all I can do for you. Don’t ask anymore of me. I, I have to go.”

 The panic she must have been feeling was obvious to me, but I persisted.

 - “Scarlett, wait!”

 She paused in her exit, and she said:

 - “I can’t, he is watching. He’ll know, and then I’ll…”

 Without finishing her sentence, she walked and disappeared into the night.

 She left me standing in the middle of a starless night, gazing in confusion at the last place I saw her. I could have done something more to stop her. I didn’t. I may have returned to a place that cares for no one, but I returned as a changed man from Vienna. I didn’t want to cause any more unnecessary pain, even to the person that could potentially hold the answers to my brother’s demise.

 She gave me two important clues though. I don’t think she noticed what she let slip, that whoever did it, and whoever was threatening her was a _he_. And the most important thing of all was now was trapped between my hands.

 Entering Will’s home, once again, I felt more joyous and alive than when I came a couple of hours ago. Now, I had hope.

 I lead up the fire in the chimney, and sat myself on the floor next to it getting ready to read.

 

_The rich always buy houses and toys to fill a void that will never be filled._

_You know, the ones that are higher, will always fall the hardest._

_What you and your family have is a disease that can only be cured by death._

 

 

I was stunned. Cornelius couldn’t had done it; he was the assassin’s target too. He was in danger. I jumped. I had to warn him. I just didn’t know but by that point it was already too late.

 


	7. Get Scared

Get Scared

 

I arrived at my uncle’s office out of breath for running the whole way there as fast as my flanking legs carried me. The despatch was different than when I was there this very morning. I didn´t know if it was the urgency coursing through my veins that made the scenery brooding and gloomy.

I didn´t have time to appreciate the dark beauty the landscape made with its Victorian building half hidden by the fog with the scarce moonlight reflecting on its windows. Taking a tired breath, I was on my way again. How I knew this is where I would find my uncle of all places, will forever remain a mystery to me.

It was even quieter inside, the normal chit chatter of lawyers, clients and secretaries was absent. Deep inside my bones I knew something was terribly amiss. The elevator ride to the last floor felt longer than any elevator ride should.

The doors opened with the common tinkle that rang through the floorboards and resounded in the walls. I preferred the quiet, the noise did not belong in this still moment. It made me hesitant to continue to my destination.

As uninviting as the oak guardians were this morning, their looming presence was made infinitely intimidating by the shadows dancing in their wooden surface.  At the same time, they were comforting, their solid bodies separated me from any possible gruesome outcome my mind played before my eyes.

 I swear I could almost hear my own heartbeat pulsing in my ears. I sighed once for courage and opened the doors. They were heavy, almost as if they wanted to push back to their original position. With the last of my strength I got them opened slowly, their bottoms scratching the marble with a chirring sound that made me flinch.

The office was obscure, barely lit by the light of the streetlamp that percolated through the gap in the curtains. That beam of light fell upon the only figure laying limp on the desk, reflected out of dead eyes. The picture was grotesque enough I didn´t want to imagine it in the full light of the day.

The image was strangely reminiscent of the scene of my brother´s death. In fact, you wouldn´t find a single difference if you didn´t look close enough. The gun held loosely in my uncle´s grip was the same calibre and model than the one responsible for Will´s tragedy, there was something lacking though. My sibling´s gun had three letters engraved on its side with masterful calligraphy: S.H.M. The side of this gun was bare.

I couldn´t wrap my mind around the sudden disappearance of my family. I was truly alone and the world now, the realisation hit me directly on the chest, the feeling was oppressive and constricted my ribs. The sight of my uncle´s cadaver was unbearable, yet by some morbid part of the human nature I couldn´t tear my eyes away.

The sound of the doors crashing brought me out of my darksome reverie. On instinct I turned towards the sound. A figure was lurking by the doors, hidden by the dimness of the atmosphere. I could tell it was moving my way, drawing nearer in a deliberately lingering pace. I was getting scared by the new unknown presence, terrified actually.

I was sure this figure walking to me was the one responsible for my family´s fading away. This was probably the last thing my brother saw before being struck by the barrel of a pistol. I wondered if he also felt the overwhelming panic that had overcome me.

A lot of things ran rampant through my mind, distracting me to the point I didn´t notice the figure had taken a hold of me. My first reaction was to struggle against his vice-like grip. His steely arms moved from my waist up to my neck where they squeezed gently enough not to kill me but forceful so that I could begin to feel the effects of the lack of air entering my lungs. Black spots were permeating my vision almost taking over. The dizziness came later. I didn´t want to succumb into the black but the events of the last few days had drained me and I wasn´t strong to grasp to my last bit of consciousness. I fainted.

 

* * *

 

Coming to, I could feel the tranquil sway of a moving car. Next thing I noticed were the rough binds biting into my wrists. My ankles were tied as well, making any chance of escape impossible. All I could tell was, that I was stuffed in the truck of a car.

The closed space was suffocating me, making my breaths to become raspy and laboured because of my agitation. I tried to regain a semblance of calmness, but that clearness of mind didn’t come.

The car came to a sudden stop; I wasn’t waiting for us to arrive to our destination so soon. I was rather hoping this would be a long ride, I didn’t want to face the grim reaper so quickly. In fact, I didn’t want to face it at all. The figure had their plans though.

The lid of the trunk popped open, and the face of my attacker was finally revealed, except all I could see were green eyes hatefully gazing at me from behind a ski-mask. I didn’t know whether to laugh at the cliché or cry at my misfortune. I could see in his green irises death was due any moment now.

He dragged me out by my hair, forcing the rest of my body to follow. We headed to an abandoned building. I could smell the reek of urine and mold clinging to the air. The walls were barely hanging on, everything about this building looked as if it was falling apart.

He kept on pulling me, following a path only he seemed to know.  We made our way pass homeless people and junkies who didn’t blink an eye at the sight of a bounded man and his captor. The stale smelled and decrepit look accompanied us as we made our way up the broken stairs, finally arriving to a door.

The door was splintered and off its hinges. The apartment inside was in no better shape than the rest of the building. There was a chair in the middle of what I assume was once a garish living room. He tied me to it.

The mysterious man began pacing, his hands were clenching and unclenching a sure sign I would be getting no mercy. The fury was evident in his stiff stance. He turned to me taking the mask off. He stalked close to the chair bending down to my level, whispering in a low tone.

\- “Do you want to know little Elroy, why it is you are here? Who you have to thank for? It was the rotten men you idolized. – he chuckled at my confused expression – Don’t you believe me? Let me tell you a story.”

He told me how my father cruelly pushed his father into a poverty which took his mind, his wife, and his life away from him. It was because of my father’s actions that his dad’s only companions were a bottle and a gun. The suicide of his father marked my brother’s murderer.

I always knew my family’s company was cursed. I just didn’t realize how much death and pain that curse entailed. All of this was led by the exile of his father from the company. Apparently my father was not the lone genius behind the construction of the enterprise. The assassin’s father was a founder all along. 

But when greed got in the way of friendship and partnership, everything crashed around his life. He saw it as a righteous punishment and divine duty to get rid of my family and the privileged. I saw it as the crazed resentment of a jealous madman.

His tale of woe seemed unending. It was disturbing how precisely he could recall the details of his father’s suicide. His words were laced with the same grief I had at finding my brother. The scene of his father’s demise was described perfectly, and I realized every aspect was matched exactly by the picture of William’s and Cornelius’ homicide, still fresh on my mind.

 He quieted down and remained gazing at an image only he could see. Out of the blue he turned to me with a wicked smile. I knew then what was to come. My only regret was that the last thing I was ever going to see was his smirking face. I guess Andrew Marshall accomplished his desire, there were no longer any Tuckers in the world.

 The bang of a gun pierced through the night.

 


End file.
